


Acta Sancti

by JoAsakura



Category: Saints Row
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random collection of shorts about my SRTT/SRIV boss, Adam and his crapsack superman adventures. A work in progress.</p><p>I did not expect to have Feels with this game. :T</p><p>Adam in SRIV: https://gs1.wac.edgecastcdn.net/8019B6/data.tumblr.com/ae91e673142f9f71502ff6258f414932/tumblr_mzrqqcthnj1qbs59vo1_r2_1280.jpg</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOUGE

If Adam could have gone back in time to tell his younger self, smoking a joint behind Company of Gyros just before everything in his life went completely sideways, that he would have just stuck his dick in a giant floating robot …

He stared at the ceiling in the storage room as CID floated past. “I’d be dead. I’d have shot the future me.” It hadn’t been *unpleasant*, for any given value of sticking one’s private parts in what was essentially a vacuum hose attached to a gigantic meat grinder, but it had been deeply unsettling.

He waited for the AI to say something sarcastic, but it simply made a humming noise, then threw him out of the room, jumpsuit still down around his ankles.

"Lookin’ good, boss." Kinzie said, giving him the thumbs up.

"Bloody hell."

~~

Days later:

He still felt bad about decking Matt, but honestly, he would apologise to the irritating little blighter a thousand times for the gift they’d given him. Hell, he’d kiss Zinyak on the goddamn mouth before he ripped the bastard’s head off for saving Johnny in his menagerie.

Johnny Fucking Gat was racking up a set of billiard balls right in front of him. He was trying not to be weird about it. Trying not not be more than five feet from Johnny at any given moment.

He thought he was succeeding.

"You’re happy, aren’t you?" Shaundi whispered in his ear. "You’re beaming."

"Bloody hell."

~~

"So, Zinyak took you because he was afraid you could stop his invasion?" Adam’s heavy brows flattened across his face. He was *mildly* hurt that he hadn’t ranked as the most dangerous person in all of human existence, but he couldn’t, rationally, deny that the title should go to Gat. The man was an unstoppable killing machine.

Johnny was about to comment, when CID came floating in, silencing the conversation as they all looked at the dronebody. “That is correct, but not the entire story.”

"What the fuck is that?" Gat asked, and Adam inserted himself between them before either one thought they were threatened.

"It’s a long story, but it’s on our side." He said quickly, turning to CID. "What’re you talking about?"

"When I had opportunity to sample your DNA, I discovered something unexpected." CID said with what sounded like a vague sneer in it’s monotone voice.

"And that was?" Adam tried to hurry it along as Kinzie gave him a thumbs-up and a truly off-putting grin to the confusion of the others. "C’mon CID, don’t fuck with me."

"Long ago, ZInyak attacked a proud warrior culture." CID droned. "They assumed they would prevail against the Zin and they were… wrong."

"Is that how you ended up in the simulation?" Ben said, rubbing his chin.

"Indeed. I had been their king, their champion, and I faced Zinyak in combat, only to be defeated and imprisoned." CID bobbed towards the former President and it’s one baleful eye stared at Adam. "There was one faction amongst our people who thought we would fail, and they urged that an infant be sent in a rocket to a world similar to ours, where he could grow into a great leader and raise opposition to the Zin."

Adam swallowed, narrowing his eyes as everyone (including Gat behind him, he could feel Johnny’s eyes boring into the back of his neck and it was the perfect combination of arousing and terrifying) stared. “Do go on.” His jaw twitched.

"Despite our derision, the child was sent to earth. The child who Zinyak believed grew into Mister Gat." CID bobbed closer. "I would like to create a simulation based on your memories in order to determine how the saviour of my race became … you." It added that last word with a clear sense of disgust.

"Wow. You’re like a crapsack superman, Boss." Matt said, and Adam was mostly just sad the hacker was too far away to strangle.

"You write that into your NyteBlade fanfic and I will kill you, Miller." He muttered as he glared back at CID. "Bring it on, you mechanical bastard. Bring it on."


	2. A Bizarre KGB Mating Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oleg sees through his shit.

Saints Penthouse HQ, Steelport - after another long day of busting up rival gangs, buying garbage properties and causing unintended general vehicular mayhem.

~~

Every single part of Adam’s body hurt. The Luchador rounds that had peppered his skin had left fading bruises and he still smelled like burnt hair from a brute’s flamethrower. Not to mention the three or four motor vehicle accidents on the way back…. He was grateful Oleg had answered his panicked phone call.

(You fight with the strength of Achilles) Oleg had shouted at him as Adam had blown the head off of one Luchador as he’d broken the neck of another in one, seamless move.

(You should have seen my Patrocolus) Adam sighed as he peeled off his sweaty gloves, leaving them on the bed. The low-level Saints who hung around had parted for him like the sea as he’d limped his way in, whispering and staring. He ignored them.

"босс, potest intrare?" Oleg’s rumble from the door startled him.

"Ayy, мой брат. Ave, ave." Adam waved absently at the door, then paused. "What?"

Oleg rumbled a laugh as he wedged himself through the doorway. “Can we speak for a few moments, Boss?”

"If you don’t mind me stripping down and taking a shower while we talk." Adam sat on the edge of his bed, unlacing combat boots still damp from having to dive in the river to dodge fire from a police helicopter.

"It makes little difference to me." Oleg’s massive bulk rolled in a shrug. "Nakedness is no issue." He paused. "And considering you only wear a shirt when Pierce forces you to, i think is little issue to you as well."

Adam paused, then laughed, taking a moment to look at the tattoos that covered his golden skin. A purple oni-saint, wrapped around his torso, glowered menacingly while one arm was covered in a sword and shied, the other with an abstract white sleeve. “Well, everyone gets upset when I don’t wear pants.”

Oleg had crossed the room in two quick strides, and suddenly Adam found his face cupped hard in Oleg’s huge paw of a hand. “Oleg.. mate, if this is some sorta bizarre KGB mating ritual… you just had’ta ask if you wanted a go.” Adam grunted out as he was dragged to his feet.

Oleg stared him hard in the eye. “What are you, Boss?” He asked, scowling as the pupils in Adam’s bright green eyes slitted to fine cat pupils. A moment later, the big russian found himself on his knee, arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

"I’m the leader of the fuckin’ Saints, mate." Adam looked down coldly. "Any questions?"

Oleg stood as Adam released him and rumbled another chuckle. “You know what I meant.” He said, unfazed. “I have seen you walk away from fire and bullets as if they were nothing. I’ve watched you get hit by trucks and get up, perfectly fine. I have seen my clones beat you into the pavement, and you simply turn and blow their heads off.”

Adam deflated and flopped back down on the bed. “Hey now. T’be fair, I’ve landed myself in A&E more than once.”

"You go to hospital, you have juice box and sex with one or more nurses, then you come home." Oleg’s brow ridge twitched in annoyance.

"You’ve been following me, you giant, potato-faced wanker!" Adam sat up with a glare.

"Only to understand you. Pierce, Shaundi - they do not wonder about your eyes, or your.. durability?" Oleg folded his arms.

"By the time I met them, I was already… the Boss." Adam shrugged. "I think they think it’s fancy contacts or summat. And they know not to ask. The one person who knew me before, well, he just called me a freak and we became great friends after that. He’s gone now."

"The one Loren killed." Oleg nodded. "He was…special to you."

Adam sighed, then started to work on his other boot. “But since you ask, I dunno what I am. Maybe some kinda clone experiment, who knows. Maybe I’m even an alien.” He fumbled with the laces then cursed. “I was found wanderin’ around with amnesia as a kid. Because’a my accent, the British Embassy was contacted but no one ever reported me missin’.” He grunted, wedging the boot offf. “Went thru a buncha foster homes, wore normal lookin’ contacts fer years as to not scare off people. Some were ok, some.. less than ok. A lot less than ok. I ran away when I was sixteen, ended up in Stilwater, and then, shit happened.”

"You became involved with the Saints." Oleg sat carefully on the edge of the bed, the whole affair creaking and tilting as he did.

"I’d gotten early admission into university." Adam dropped the boot with a sigh. "But I figgered I might join the military instead. I can’t drive worth a damn, but give me a weapon, and I know. I know instinctively how to use it. Can’t figger out the DVR, but I can read at least three languages. I know stuff and I dunno how I know it. But more. It’s not just fighting, Oleg. When i’m out there, and the bullets are flying and shit’s exploding.. when there’s chaos and destruction… that’s when I’m at home. That’s what I was made for."

"You would have done badly in the military." Oleg snorted. "You are bad at taking orders."

"Truth." Adam laughed. "So, I’m a freak. That’s what I am. Happy?"

"I will keep your confidence." Oleg nodded. "Were you serious earlier about having a go? I am not usually considered… attractive. So, flattered, but I am not interested in men."

"Aw hell, Oleg. I’m attracted to everyone." Adam shrugged, face shuttering, at a fleeting memory. "Everyone."

"Mn. Like our Angel of Death?" Oleg teased.

"Well, i can’t hold that fella sounds like Hulk Hogan against someone when they look like that." Adam stood up. "But I think he’s more interested in ending Killbane."

"cras amet qui nunquam amavit; quique amavit, cras amet." Oleg intoned as he got up to leave.

"Get lost, you great giant russian spud." Adam threw as sock at Oleg with a snort. "I’m gonna take my shower. Good talk."

~~

Years later: A spaceship within a spaceship containing the last hope for the vengeance of Earth.

"So, you’re … an alien?" Shaundi blinked as CID recounted how Adam had been sent to earth to protect them from the coming of the Zin. How Zinyak mistaken Johnny Gat for the alien protector instead. "How did we not know this?"

Adam rubbed his eyes. He had never missed Oleg more than in this moment.


	3. In Which Oleg Plays Matchmaker

He didn’t want to think to hard on where Zimos had gotten the furry sweatpants he was presently shambling into the penthouse in. He also didn’t want to think overmuch on whatever it was the aging pimp had shot him up with. Everything he touched still tasted vaguely purple and that was a new and distressing experience.

There was going to be a lot of work revamping Safeword, but it had been worth it.

He thought. Maybe once everything stopped smelling fuzzy.

Adam had barely registered Oleg and Pierce playing chess as he dragged himself towards the stairs, pausing when Pierce’s voice cut through the muddle in his brain. “Shit, boss. You look like crap.”

Adam swung around a little bit more dramatically than he would have normally and almost teetered over. “S’been a rough night.” He mumbled. “Oi, Pierce. I need you t’get with Zimos in the morning. We gotta lotta work t’do a Safeword, an’ I wanna make sure th’ folks working there want t’be there. Like really wanna be there.” He stabbed a finger shakily in Pierce’s general direction.

"Sure, Boss, no problem. I’ll get that sorted for you." Pierce exchanged a look with Oleg, then back at Adam. "You ok?"

"Nothin’ a shower, a nap, and about fourteen burritos can’t fix." He started to stumble towards the stairs again. "Oleg, everyone who’s not absolutely critical I want out. Too much noise, smells like broken glass."

"Hey boss, wait you.." Pierce started before Oleg’s massive hand clamped over his mouth.

"You say earlier, life is for the living, da?" Oleg rumbled a laugh at the other’s indignant expression as he dropped his hand. "Let them decide."

NOT TERRIBLY EARLIER:

Oleg caught the whiff off flop sweat and microwave dinners before he actually *saw* Angel.

"Angel. Rare to see you out of your… home." The russian attempted diplomatically.

"You mean that shitbox he calls a gym?" Pierce said absently, pondering his move, before he looked up, suddenly realising the Luchador was standing right there. "Ohhh. Hey Angel."

"Over the last two days I’ve gotten close to thirty text messages from the Boss." He held up his phone. "At least ten have been variations on ‘Don’t think i’m going to let the shite with the tiger go, wanker.’ " Angel sighed.

"The… tiger?" Pierce started, then snapped his mouth shut as Oleg shook his head.

"There are things, yes, that I think we are all happier not knowing about." The big man said and Pierce nodded.

"Yeah. Well, the others are all about how there’s hot water and soap and free food here at the penthouse." Angel, muttered, scrolling through the messages.

"Well, you know, the Boss, he is not…" Oleg began, only to have Angel start talking over him.

"And I realised, he’s correct. I’ve been so obsessed with my vengeance against Killbane that I’ve forgotten to care for myself. I can’t recover anything if I’m falling apart. He’s wiser than he looks."

"If you say so." Pierce coughed.

"Shower is upstairs." Oleg jerked a meaty thumb towards the steps.

As Angel hoisted his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed up, Pierce just shook his head as he moved a pawn. “Got no doubts about him in a fight, but man, motherfucker stinks.”

"Boss seems to like him." Oleg made a move and Pierce hissed from across the board.

"Boss also once told me he found a poodle attractive. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just fucking with me." Pierce sat back and glared. "Either way, man’s got no taste."

NOW:

Adam groaned as he heard the water running, peeling off Zimos’ dubious pants as he staggered towards the bath. “Shaundi, love, you’d best be prepared to shove over an’ share, because I guarantee i’ve had the more disgusting day.” he said, sliding the door open.

The Saints’ boss and the wrestler stared at each other for several moments as the water beat down. “Oh.” Adam said dumbly. “I was not expecting this.”

"You look like shit." Angel said with a scowl.

"I’m gettin’ that a lot tonight." Adam shifted on his feet. "So. I’m still willin’ t’share. Water. Save. Water. The shower." He was still babbling as Angel stared at him, then moved aside.

He could still feel the weight of Angel’s stare on his back as he stood under the water. “Care to tell me what’s so fuckin’ fascinating?” He said, turning, lifting his face to the spray and letting it run down his back. The display was deliberate, but when Angel didn’t say anything, Adam wiped the water from his face to look at him. “What?”

"I had figured this was some sort of ridiculous dye job." Angel reached out and took a wet lock of Adam’s hair between his fingers, and it shimmered, faintly iridescently purple in the light. "Like your eyes were some fool’s contact lenses. He let his hand drop, and his gaze with it, down to the coarser tangle between the gangster’s legs. "But it looks like it’s not."

It’s all me, love.” Adam held out his hands as far as the shower cubicle would allow, water running down golden skin decorated by sloppy stories told in purple ink. He glanced down a bit, then smirked. “Well, I’ll be honest, the boner? That’s about fifty percent you.”

Adam actually blinked, and took a step back against the ceramic tiled wall as Angel’s hands slapped down on either side of his head, arms and body caging the Saint. “Are you flirting with me or is this just your horrible sense of humour at work?”

"Depends. Is it working?" Adam pushed off the wall, just a little, bare inches between them.

"You’re not a saint, you’re a demon." Angel said, closing the space just a little more. "Yes. It’s working."

"Then I am absolutely flirting with you. Care to explore the erotic potential of helping a bloke shower?" Adam reached blindly for a bottle of bodywash that he was fairly sure Shaundi had bought and left behind, and tapped Angel on the shoulder with it. "We’re both… pretty dirty."

"I think that can be arranged." Angel said with a grin not entirely unlike the tiger’s.

LATER:

Adam was snoring, sprawled on the bed in the now-silent penthouse as Angel slid on a pair of the most disturbingly fuzzy sweatpants he’d ever seen. For a moment, he brushed some raven-purple strands from the other man’s face and shook his head, padding silently down to the kitchen.

He caught sight of Oleg relaxing on the patio, watching the Steelport night spread out below them, and pushed open the door. “Russian.”

"Luchador." Oleg countered, sipping tea from a ridiculously tiny cup.

"Thanks." Angel said simply, turning away, and letting the door shut.

Oleg simply took a sip and settled back to look at the light-stained sky.


	4. Big Damn Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oleg keeps a secret, and Adam reveals a weakness

(Six months after, STAG is just an ugly memory, Steelport is as quiet as it can be, and the Saints are Big Damn Heroes)

RAGNAROK: [emoji of a smiling poop]

TEACUP: What do *you* want? [emoji of a smiley barfing]

RAGNAROK: {RAGNAROK IS TYPING}…I haven’t heard any chatter.

TEACUP: {TEACUP IS TYPING}{DELETING}{TYPING}{DELETING}

TEACUP: Me neither. Not since Killbane went dark in Mexico. Four months, sixteen days

RAGNAROK: He’s indestructible, you know. They’ll be fine. They’re probably on a beach somewhere, drinking… whatever you drink on a beach. [emoji of a smiling sun and a martini glass]

TEACUP: Right? Drunk-punching sharks in the Gulf of Mexico or something. [emoji of a shark on fire]

RAGNAROK: They’ll be fine. He’s far too awful to actually die, Kensington.

TEACUP: He let you live, Miller. After everything.

RAGNAROK: He’ll be fine.

TEACUP: BRB

~~

Kinzie sat back and picked up her phone, almost dropping it when she saw the caller ID.

"BOSS? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She shouted, hands shaking as she gripped it. "Everyone is worried and I swear to god if you’re drunk punching mexican sharks and.."

"Kinzie." The voice on the other end was subdued. "I need an extraction, love."

"Where are you?" She asked, even though her fingers were already flying on the keyboard, tracing his phone’s location.

"Fuck if I know. Mexico." There was a short, odd sound that might have been a laugh. "You’ll find me. Send Oleg. Have him bring some.. have him bring some of Z’s fucking horse tranqs. He’ll know what I mean."

"Boss?" Kinzie held the phone. "Are you ok?"

"I’ll leave it on while you do… whatever it is you do Kinzie. Thank you." The Boss said softly, and there was the sound of the phone being set down.

"Boss???"

~~

It had been so easy for Kinzie to hide the jet’s entry into Mexican airspace, that Oleg couldn’t help but smile about it. He hoped she’d take him up on his dinner offer after they returned.

"Less than perfect runway." Viola grumbled over the intercoms as she taxied the plane on a baked stretch of desert, the night sky a starfilled black overhead "Takeoff’s going to be a bitch."

"We will make it work." Oleg opened the cargo hatch. "I don’t expect to be long."

He followed Kinzie’s coordinates to a sharp ridge, jutting up into the sky. The bones of long-abandoned mining buildings rising out of the sand. “Boss?” He shouted, listening to the echoes.

Oleg Kirrlov was not afraid of very much. But he would have been lying if he’d denied how irrationally creepy the place was.

"Here." A voice from the shadows of a mine entrance. "Do you have the tranqs?"

"I do. What, do we need to tranquilise killbane to bring.." Oleg’s sentence trailed off as he caught sight of Adam in the glow of his small lantern. "bozhe moi"

Stark shadows hid most of him as he lay agains a rock, but what Oleg could see was bloody. “Most of it’s killbane’s.” Adam rubbed his face with one gloved hand, and Oleg could see where the leather had been torn away, and the skin beneath it, tendons and bone visible as it moved. “Some of it’s mine. Some.. some of it belongs to..”

"What happened here?" Oleg stood still, Adam’s eyes glowing in the reflected light like a cat’s.

"We finally found him." Adam tried to get up, failed, then laughed sadly. "Angel and I.. we got separated in the mines. I found a bunch of fucking wannabe luchadores. He found killbane."

Oleg took a cautious step forward. “And then?”

"By the time I got to him… " Adam paused, looking back at the cave for a long time. "He was dying. Killbane. That fucking son of a .." Adam looked at his hands. "I ripped out Killbane’s windpipe. Shoved a grenade down there. Angel got to see him explode before the light went out of his eyes. "

"You got caught in the blast." Oleg took another step, watching the Boss nod. "How bad?"

"Bad. It’ll heal. always does. Julius tried to kill me in an explosion. Was in a coma for two years. Life support while my lungs and shit grew back. Lucky enough to have a friend keep it all quiet, so i didn’t end up in a jar in a lab or somethin’." Adam shifted uncomfortably. "But I woke up wrong. Angry. Bad. Death and fire in a human skin. I like me a spot of chaos an’ all, but this… Took me a long time to find my way back. ‘S why I had t’save Shaundi. The Saints. Why I let Pierce market us."

"To pay them back, and keep them safe." Oleg nodded, crouching down a few feet away. "You are a better man sometimes, then you realise."

"Fuck you. You’re gonna hafta carry me back, you giant russian potato bastard. But you gotta tranq me first. I don’t. I don’t wan’t’hurt you." Adam snorted.

"And Angel?"

"Buried, down there." He made a weak jerk of the thumb towards the mine. "Killbane’s blood as sacrifice for him in the underworld."

Oleg moved beside him, taking in the damage with a trained eye before he pressed the needle into the boss’s vein. “What are you going to do after you recover?”

"Are we still big damn heroes?" Adam slurred as he began to slowly tip over.

"Apparently."

"Then I got a great fuckin’ idea."

"If it involves action figures, Pierce will be delighted and Shaundi will be appalled." Oleg said softly as he caught the other man in a slump.

"You have no idea." Adam slurred against Oleg’s chest as the big russian gathered him up. "Angel said he was gonna come back, help me do it."

"Then I am sure is horrible idea we will all regret. You will tell me all about it."

~~

SOME YEARS LATER:

As Oleg watched the monitors, the boss clinging to the nuclear missile, he shook his head.

He wouldn’t say goodbye.

(you are a better man than you realise)


	5. I shouldn't be here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't save them all.

It had started with a sparring match, became midway through, a grapple of a very different sort, and ultimately became, as these things tended to with them, a post-coital argument involving tigers, the tetanus-laden environment which Angel chose to reside in, and the perception that Adam was less than concerned about Killbane now that he’d unmasked him.

"He’s still powerful. He still has resources!" Angel found his voice rising as the Saints’ boss struggled back into a pair of ridiculously tight plaid pants, lips pressed thin.

"We humiliated him on TV, love." Adam said, wincing as he nearly caught his cock in the zipper, then flopping down to lace his boots up. "That pathetic fuck’s unmasking is at like a million youtube hits now, whatever that is, according to Kinzie. He’s finished."

"You don’t know him like I do." Angel looked around irritably for his mask, anything to not look at Adam and let the sight of him drain the anger away and replace it with fresh need.

"You’re fuckin’ living in the past, you’re afraid of him, even if he was too much of a coward to face you in the ring." Adam stomped past him. "Try livin’ in the now."

"Like you do, with Johnny Gat’s memory, and the others?" Angel pulled his mask on then froze at the sudden, still fury across the ring.

"Fuck you." Adam spat after a moment, turning on his heel and stalking towards the door. "Do whatever the fuck you want." The whole building felt like it shook from the force he slammed the doors behind him with.

"Asshole." Angel grumbled, pacing, smoothing the familiar, soothing mask over his face again and again.

It wasn’t a sound that alerted him, so much as a strange, momentary absence of it, a flicker of the overhead lights, and a dark shape in his periphery that hadn’t been there a moment before. Angel tensed, falling into a stance as he turned. “SHOW YOURSELF!”

Nothing, then a hesitant step, heavy and metallic. The light played off the dull grey planes of the armoured figure, and Angel’s hands twitched. “Get the fuck out of my gym, I’ve got no business with STAG…”

Another pause, and the blank metal face tilted. “Sorry. I’m. I’m not.. Fuck. I’m not with STAG. I’m just… passin’ through.”

Angel froze. Even modulated through the helmet he knew that voice. “Adam.” He said, knowing the name was not one the Boss had shared easily with him and armoured form shuddered a bit. “What the hell are you doing?”

Gauntleted hands fidgeted for a moment, then reached up, helmet releasing with a hiss as he pulled it off. And Angel’s stomach dropped, cold and strange, as the man hooked it on his hip.

The same golden skin. The same raven-purple hair, cut in a close crop, compared to the glorious mess he’d run his hands through not fifteen minutes before. His nose was broken, again, and there were lines on his face he’d never seen before. But the biggest difference was in those slit-pupiled green eyes. A lifetime’s weight was behind them. “Angel.” Adam rasped, jaw working as he clearly tried to figure out something clever to say, and failed. “I shouldn’t be here.”

"What happened to you?" Angel closed the space between them, looking over the suit, and the face of the man who had somehow aged years in moments.

"So many things, love. I took your fuckin’ tiger to the white house." Adam swallowed a nervous laugh, armoured hands slowly lifting to cup Angel’s face. "I shouldn’t be here, and.. I .." his stubbly jaw twitched as the first tear tracked down his face. "Look at you."

Understanding hit Angel square between the eyes, and he gently pushed the metal hands from his face, long enough to pull the mask off. “Do I die well?” He asked as this older Adam grabbed him, dragged him in close for a brutal kiss, cheeks wet with silent grief.

"Very well." Adam breathed against his cheek when it was over. "In your mask, Killbane’s blood on your hands." He pressed his forehead to Angel’s and choked back a sob with a growl. "I shouldn’t be here."

Angel stroked hair like glossy fur beneath his hands. “Don’t mourn me, Adam. You gave me back everything.”

"I’m sorry, for everything, Angel." Adam straightened, looking at him hard.

"If you’re apologising, I must be hallucinating this." Angel shook his head, but the older man caught his face and scowled.

"Especially for this, for the fucking paradox that I can't fix." Adam whispered. The luchador was about to respond when Adam pressed his fingers to the other’s forehead, and as the spark of blue disappated, Angel crumpled in his arms. "I’m so sorry I can’t save you, but I’ll never forget you, love."

He gently set Angel down against a post in the ring and put the mask in his lap. Already, he could hear the footsteps of his younger self returning. Adam scrubbed an armoured hand across his face, then shoved his helmet on. “Zinjai, i”m coming back.”

But he waited, in the shadows, to watch himself return, just for a moment.

"I forgot my fuckin’ jacket.." the younger him started, words dying as he saw Angel slumped there. Adam winced at the memory of it as he vaulted into the ring and dropped to his knees. "ANGEL!?"

The luchador blinked groggily and looked around, confused, first at Adam then around at the otherwise empty gym. “I must have passed out.”

"Fuck. You’re comin’ back with me. Not leavin’ you here." Adam cursed, helping him stand.

"I’m sorry for what I said." Angel rumbled, clutching his mask. "That was a low blow."

"Yeah. I … I might’ve been a bit outta line, myself. No worries, right?" Adam joked. "No worries."

"Is that an apology?" Angel frowned, trying to make sense of some half-remembered dream.

"You must be hallucinatin’, love. Bump your head then?" Adam helped him to the door.

"I must be." Angel said as he grabbed his hoodie on the way out.

There was no other alternative.


End file.
